Reconnecting
by greysfull
Summary: During 3x08, after M/M meet-up at the specialist's office. Mary was so rigid at Rosamund's, and then the next time we see them (the next day?), they are flirty and affectionate at the cricket match. I can't help but think that they made up properly during that in-between time, and reconnected with one another…


_**A/N: **__ I used to be a writer and editor but haven't really written since I started popping out kids 8+ years ago. Haven't written fiction since well before that. Truly want to start writing again, and fanfic seems a great way for me to blow off the cobwebs and oil the joints, so to speak. Please r&r, as I want to improve! (My formatting may be goofy, so please forgive as I work out my newbie kinks!)_

_Unapologetic smut, I'm afraid. In my head canon, M&M almost always travel to Smutville. (Damn the actors for having such amazing chemistry!)_

_So this is during 3x08, after M/M meet-up at the specialist's office. Mary was so rigid at Rosamund's, and then the next time we see them (the next day?), they are flirty and affectionate at the cricket match. I can't help but think that they made up properly during that in-between time, and re-connected with one another…_

* * *

Matthew doesn't know what to think of his wife's silence. They had gone to a tea shop after her appointment, and he felt that they had a good discussion, laid their thoughts and concerns on the table between them, and left with some new understandings. He certainly felt lighter, more assured of her love and their commitment, as they exited the tea shop.

Since then, however, doubts had crept back. Mary had barely looked at him since their talk. When they left the shop and started the walk back to Rosamund's, he jutted his bent elbow in her direction, hoping that she would link her arm with his as they sauntered. However, she didn't even seem to notice. She was quiet, almost terse, and he occasionally sidled a glance at her face. Her lips were pursed, and she appeared distracted, lost in her own thoughts.

What was bothering her? Was she embarrassed from being discovered at the fertility doctor, or from the private nature of the conversation that had followed? Perhaps she HAD 'gone off' him, in more ways than one. Perhaps the lack of physical intimacy in the past several weeks had leaked over into other facets of their relationship? God, he hoped not! He adored the closeness with his wife, not only their bedroom activities, but also the emotional and intellectual bond they had. It would absolutely crush him if she started intentionally distancing herself from him.

He knew that the next few hours would be hectic, as they headed back to Downton with Edith, Rose, and Rosamund. He longed to gather her in his arms, soothe her, talk to her and get to the bottom of her current aloofness, make love to her – but now was not the time. He decided to let her be for the time being, let her stew in her thoughts for a while, but made a promise to re-double his attentions and affections after dinner this evening, when they could finally have some time alone.

* * *

They sat side-by-side on the train, and he found her physical proximity to be even more of a distraction than it usually was. The past weeks of abstinence had been quite different than their normal frequency, and Matthew had taken notice. Added to that tension was the fact that Rosamund had arranged for him to sleep last night in the same bedroom where he and Mary had spent the first few nights of their marriage. He tossed and turned all through the dark hours, sleep eluding him as he tried to avoid re-living every little detail of those sweet, heated, glorious nights – the first realizations of skin on skin, of sounds never before vocalized, of bodies uniting and never wanting to part…

Matthew sat awkwardly on the train, feeling the heat radiating off her body. Tendrils of her perfume reached out towards him, caressing him, made him feel edgy with lust, and he found himself in a constant battle to keep his body in control. Of course, she was wearing the same blue suit that she had worn while they travelled together as husband and wife for the first time, from Downton to London on the day they were married… tormenting him in those hours between their wedding and its consummation. Every time he allowed a quick look at Mary, he had mental flashes of removing the layers of blue fabric, of her naked form, her hair down and tangling across his pillow…

Mary was seated next to the window, and she spent the majority of the trip in silence, watching the hills and fields lead them home to Downton. Rose sat sulking on the other side of the aisle, but periodically, Edith or Rosamund would ask a pointed question, in an attempt to draw Mary into their chatter. Mary's answers were polite and witty, but brief, and she would soon turn back to her view. She appeared to have no interest in speaking to her husband at all. He felt ignored, almost invisible. He sighed and dared to reach out to her. He slowly shifted his hand from where it rested on his knee, to Mary's leg, just inches away. As soon as his fingers grazed her skirt, she… oh, dear God, did she flinch? Here he sat, thinking all sorts of inappropriate thoughts, his entire body coursing with heat and hunger for her, counting the minutes until their bedtime tonight, and... she had recoiled at his touch! This was so much worse than he anticipated. He groaned internally, and thought to himself that he probably shouldn't have any expectations for tonight; there was obviously something still bothering Mary, and Matthew would need to allow her the time she needed… he just hoped, wished, prayed that time would be soon. VERY soon.

* * *

After depositing Rose at The Dower House, the rest of the travelers returned to Downton Abbey. Alfred and James arrived to carry in the luggage. Rosamund, who was planning a week's stay, had several cases, but Edith and Matthew each had only one overnight bag. Mary, who had traveled to and from London in the course of one day, had just one small bag.

"Alfred?" Mary called to the gangly footman, "Don't concern yourself with Mr. Crawley's and my bags. They are small; Mr. Crawley can bring them upstairs when he comes up to freshen up." Mary raised her eyebrows at Matthew in question, and he nodded in return.

"Awright, Milady," replied Alfred.

Matthew grabbed the bags and followed Mary inside. Robert met them in the front hall, exclaiming, "Ah, Matthew! There you are! I'd like to borrow your ear for a few moments, if you don't mind. There's a bit of a question about one of the outbuildings, and I think we need to put our heads together…"

"Papa, he's just spent hours on the train. Surely, you can allow him a few moments to freshen up before you corner him with business? Besides, I require some items from my luggage, so I'll need Matthew to bring it up to our room," Mary postured.

"Very well. Let's plan on meeting up before dinner, after you've settled back in?" Robert asked Matthew.

"It's a plan!" returned Matthew with a nod.

"Darling, will you bring that up for me now?" questioned Mary with a small gesture at the luggage.

Matthew picked up their bags, and trailed Mary up the stairs. He tried, but failed, to focus anywhere but on her lovely bottom as it swayed seductively right at his eye level. As he felt his trousers tighten, his manhood straining against the fabric, he said another silent prayer that they would soon resume their amorous activities.

Mary led the way into their bedroom, and he closed the door behind him. She turned to face him, her face as blank and unreadable as it had been all afternoon. Matthew gave her a sheepish smirk, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable or pressured with the weight of his carnal thoughts. Maybe tonight… when they were retired for the evening, dressing gowns set aside… maybe then, he could impose some of those thoughts upon her…

Her face still veiled, Mary eased closer to him. My God, the power this woman had over him! All she had to do was make prolonged eye contact with him, and his wild mind turned that innocent gesture into mad lustful yearning. Before he could muster up the courage to break his gaze from hers, his wife's slim ungloved hand reached out and stroked the side of his face.

"Thank God!" Mary burst out. "I thought we would never get back home!"

"Wh-what do you mean, darling?" stammered Matthew. Mary's light touch was swiftly breaking down his already tenuous grasp on propriety. He gulped and wondered how affronted she would be if he swooped her up in his arms that very moment, and carried her over to their bed…

"Matthew! It has been three weeks… _three weeks_! I can't be the only one who has taken notice of this? Darling? Haven't you _missed_ me?" Mary edged up even closer as she asked, and as Matthew's eyes widened, he realized, that, YES, that was a spark of lust burning in her eyes! In fact, it wasn't quite a spark as much as it was an eruption of desire; he knew suddenly that her feelings were spiraling out of control just as badly as his own. "Matthew, all day I've been fighting to keep my hands off of you! Don't deny me my wifely rights, now that we are finally alone!"

"Mary? But it's the middle of the afternoon! Everyone will wonder where we vanished to…" Matthew squeaked out, without any real conviction.

"I don't really give a fig what anyone wonders about us! I have been waiting as patiently as possible for you, and for **_this_**," she punctuated her last word by sliding her hand down between their bodies and gripping his hardness. "I need my husband, now!" she whispered.

Matthew closed his eyes and groaned at her touch. To an extent, he would have liked to just stand there, leaning against the wall for support, and let her stroke him for a minute or two until he exploded in her hand. But the small part of his mind that still was capable of rational thought reminded him that his gorgeous, passionate, adoring wife was randy for him, and he couldn't dream of leaving her unfulfilled.

He swatted her hand away from his groin, so that he could focus on more practical needs – like removing clothing as swiftly as possible. Fortunately, this was a talent that they had both become very skilled at since the start of their marriage, and finicky buttons and latches fell apart with ease as they moved towards the bed. Layers fell to the floor as their eyes never broke contact.

By the time the back of Mary's legs hit the bed, she was completely naked, and Matthew's trousers and underpants hit the ground seconds later. They devoured one another with their eyes, Matthew's blazing azure gaze roaming over the curves of her hips and waist, the softness of her breasts, her long neck exposed by her still-pinned hair. Mary's vision lingered over the planes of his shoulders and chest and abdomen, before she became totally engrossed in the sight of his steely arousal pointing towards her. She was startled by the evidence of his neediness, and felt her own body long for his even more.

Mary leaned back on the duvet, and inched her rump so that it was perched on the very edge of the bed. She spread her legs wide and moaned, "Now, Matthew, now! Please!"

Matthew needed no encouragement, and he grabbed his cock to line the engorged head up with her slick opening. As soon as he was in position, he let go, and slammed into her warm recesses. In sync, they threw their heads back and moaned at the sensations of filling and being filled. Her long legs snaked up around her hips, pulling them even closer together.

He used one hand to brace himself as he started to slide deliciously inside of her, and brought his other hand to the place where they were joined. When she started whimpering and writhing below him, he knew that his fingers were touching her in just the right spots. Even so, he was surprised – though elated – when her back arched wildly mere moments later, and she moaned and stuttered, "Oh, oh, Matthew! Yes! yes!"

As soon as he saw her sated smile, he slid both of his hands to the sides of her hips, and pulled her even tighter against him. It only took three long, hard thrusts before he felt himself burst and uncoil deep within his wife. He took a moment to catch his breath and stop quaking. When he opened his eyes and looked down at Mary, he saw her grinning up at him, and he felt his own joy and bliss split his face as he smiled back at her. He flopped down next to her on the bed, still smiling and chuckling. "I love you, darling," slipped from him before he even realized.

"I know," flirted Mary, as she caressed his cheek and kissed his mouth softly. Their eyes met, and they wordlessly spoke volumes of the depth of their love.

"Do you think we made a baby?" they both asked in unison.


End file.
